Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Almost a week later, June couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong with Cal. It wasn’t anything he’d said, but it was obvious something had occurred . . . or that he’d had an abrupt change of heart.

Ever since the morning after she’d taken the job at Hill’s House, and she’d again woken up in his arms, he’d been different. Quieter. Spending less time with her.

He was distancing himself, and she had no idea why.

Maybe he was reconsidering how fast their relationship had progressed. Maybe he was regretting his asking her to move in with him. Maybe, since there had been no word from her stepmother or stepsister, he’d decided she didn’t need his protection.

Maybe the sex wasn’t good for him, and he decided he didn’t want to be with her anymore.

Whatever it was, June had never felt so depressed.

It really started in earnest when he drove her home from Hill’s House on her third day—barely saying two words—then letting her know he had to go out and cut down a huge tree that had fallen across a road. He hadn’t gotten home until after she was asleep.

The next night, he’d said he wasn’t tired, and she should go on up to bed. June ended up going to the guest room she’d used her first night in Newton, feeling too uncertain to be in the master without him for a second night in a row. When Cal hadn’t appeared or woken her up to take her to his bed, she felt extremely awkward about sleeping there again . . . unless she was specifically invited.

And so it went. Every night, he had some excuse or another for staying up late, and, not being stupid, June took the hint and continued to go upstairs hours before he did, sleeping in the guest bed.

Finally, last night he’d told her that he had to walk a section of the Appalachian Trail today and do some maintenance and that he’d be gone overnight. He arranged for Bob to take her to work and pick her up afterward.

June decided she was done. She was an expert at knowing when she was wanted and when she wasn’t. She’d learned from the best, her stepmother. As much as it hurt, she wasn’t going to continue to stay in Cal’s house when it was obvious he no longer wanted her there.

Her heart physically ached. Things had seemed so promising. Of course, she should’ve known better. They’d moved faster than lightning. Cal had probably found himself caught up in the excitement of his first physical relationship in years, the thrill of saving her from her awful situation.

Now that the dust had settled, he clearly realized she was a burden—just like her stepmother had always claimed.

It sucked—hard. June already loved Cal deeply. She just wished she was . . . more attractive? Better? Smarter? Something. Wished she could’ve kept his interest for more than a week.

She thought they’d truly connected, instantly and profoundly. And for her, at least, the sex had been out-of-this-world amazing. She couldn’t imagine it being any better. Then again, she didn’t have much experience to draw on. She must not have been that good herself, if he could so easily drop her.

After all they’d done, after he’d bared himself to her, after she thought she’d finally gotten through the extremely thick shields he’d built around himself, it was obvious he was done. And it hurt. A lot.

She needed to call April, or maybe talk to Meg, and see what her living options were. She couldn’t continue to stay in Cal’s house knowing he didn’t really want her there. It was torture to see him every day and have him remain so distant.

It would still be painful to live in Newton and see him around, but she loved this little town and the people in it. Loved her job. She’d only known the residents a short time, but they were as important to her as she supposed grandparents were to their loved ones. They were funny, caring, and incredibly interesting. She couldn’t imagine quitting and going to some huge city, where no one cared about anyone, and everyone was always in a big rush. She’d always felt like a tiny little insignificant bug in Washington, DC, but here . . . everywhere she went, people said hello to her and genuinely seemed interested in how she was doing.

There had to be an apartment or room she could afford to rent.

Cal had left for his overnight hike on the AT before she woke, and the house felt empty and lonely without him. She ate her breakfast alone, and it was almost scary how fast similar memories of DC emerged, of June dining by herself as she waited for Elaine and Carla to wake up and start ordering her around.

Eight forty-five didn’t come fast enough, and when Bob finally pulled up outside Cal’s house, June was more than ready to leave. She carefully locked the door behind her and climbed into Bob’s truck with a forced smile.

“Good morning,” she told him.

“Morning,” he returned as he waited for her to fasten her seat belt. Then he started down Cal’s driveway.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Is . . . is Cal okay?” She hadn’t really meant to bring this up, because she’d be mortified if it got back to Cal that she was talking about him behind his back. But Bob was one of his best friends, and if something was wrong, he’d know.

Bob’s head jerked quickly to look at her. “Why? Has he said something?”

“I just . . . I mean, I haven’t known him that long, but he seems . . . I don’t know . . . off?”

Bob continued to divide his attention between her and the road as he drove. “He seems okay to me.”

And there it was. Cal was just fine. It was only around her that he was being weird. That hurt even more. “Okay. I’m sure I’m just seeing something that isn’t there,” she said as nonchalantly as she could.

But Bob shook his head. “No, if you think something’s up, then something’s up. You’ve been around him more than the rest of us recently. I’ll talk to him, see if I can get him to tell me what’s wrong.”

“No!” June blurted, earning herself another penetrating look from Bob. “I just . . . I think it’s me. That he’s ready for me to go and doesn’t know how to tell me. That he’s regretting asking me to stay at all. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention anything. But do you know of anyone who’s leasing a room? Or maybe an empty apartment somewhere?”

June had never been so glad the ride to Hill’s House was a short one. Bob pulled to the curb near the walkway that led up to the porch before turning to look at her.

“He doesn’t want you to go,” Bob said firmly.

June shook her head and opened her mouth to disagree, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak.

“I mean it, June. He doesn’t. I’ve never seen Cal so . . . settled. He’s always been a little twitchy, and I can’t blame him after everything. But the other day, he actually wore a short-sleeved T-shirt to work! I can’t remember the last time he bared his arms or any other part of himself to the team. No, that’s not true. I can. It was before we were POWs. You did that, June. Somehow, you chiseled under that brick wall he hides behind. He definitely doesn’t want you to leave,” he finished.

“You don’t understand,” June whispered.

“Then help me understand,” Bob said calmly.

June didn’t exactly want to admit that she was, apparently, not very good in bed, but she needed to talk to someone. “Things were good. Great, actually. Then after we . . . had sex . . . things changed. After the second time, he started to distance himself. Quickly. Found things to do at night, sending me to bed without him. Or stayed out late working. And he’s barely spoken a dozen words to me in the last week, including while driving me to and from work.

“It was obviously really bad for him, or maybe I seemed too promiscuous and pushy or something. And now he left to go on that overnight trip. I just . . . I love him,” June admitted softly. “And I hate making him uncomfortable . . . hate chasing him from his own home.”

“I suck at this,” Bob said with a sigh. “Look, Cal hasn’t dated since we got out of the Army. Since he was tortured. Even before that, I’ve never seen him as . . . animated . . . as he is with you. Whatever happened, it’s not on you, June. I know that for certain.

“Cal’s life hasn’t been easy. He’s had a lot of pressure put on him to be the perfect son his entire life. From the royal family, the media. It doesn’t matter that everyone knows he’ll never be king, he’s still endured the pressure. And after he was tortured and publicly humiliated with those videos, he changed completely. Retreated inside his head. He spent a lot of time hiking and being alone.

“Since you’ve arrived, he’s more social. Happier. Whatever is going on in his head, it’s nothing you’ve done. I can promise you that. But . . . don’t give up on him,” Bob begged. “He needs you, June. I can’t see into the future. I don’t know if you guys will get married, have a family, and live happily ever after. But a lot has been thrown at him in a short period of time, and I’m sure he’s simply processing everything. Talk to him. Don’t let him push you away, because from what you’ve described, it’s obvious that’s what he’s doing. He’s probably trying to be noble or something. Don’t let him.”

June stared at Bob. What he said actually made sense. Things had progressed so fast, and if Cal was used to holding people at arm’s length, then the speed at which things between them had moved would probably be quite a jolt.

She loved the man, and she wanted things between them to work out. She wasn’t sure they would. But she was stubborn—look at how long she’d hung on to the house she’d lived in with her dad—and she wanted to at least give her and Cal a chance to be happy.

“Okay,” she said after a long moment.

“Okay?” Bob asked. “You’ll make him sit down and talk?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank God! You’re good for him, June. And trust me, I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t believe it down to my bones. The man has been through enough, and if I thought you were nothing but a passing fancy, a way to scratch an itch, I wouldn’t be encouraging you to pursue him. I’d be finding you a place to live so fast, your head would spin. But him wearing that T-shirt at the office . . . that speaks volumes. He needs you.”

June shook her head. “He doesn’t need me. If anything, I need him.”

“Fine, then you guys need each other. Whatever. Just talk to him. Don’t let him put you off. Strip naked and parade yourself in front of him. Do whatever it takes.”

June laughed for the first time in days. “That’s not happening,” she said.

“I’m sure it would distract him.” He grinned.

“I need to get inside,” she replied, shaking her head ruefully.

“Okay. I’ll be back at three to pick you up. Just let me know if you need me to come earlier or later.”

“I will.”

“Have a good day.”

“You too. And thank you, Bob,” June told him solemnly, then climbed out of his truck. As she walked toward the front door, she once again realized how lucky Cal was to have such a good friend in Bob. And JJ and Chappy, for that matter. The four men really were like brothers, and she wasn’t jealous in the least. She was glad Cal had that.

“Good morning!” Banks said loudly when he opened the door as she approached. “We’ve been waiting for you. We’re all ready for our cornhole tournament today! We’ve been doing our stretches, and I can’t wait to kick everyone’s butts. I mean, I had years and years of training when I was a boxer.”

June resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn’t believe Banks did half the things he claimed he did, but like everyone else, since he was amusing, she went with it. “I don’t know,” she teased. “I’m thinking Sofia is probably a dark horse.”

Banks scoffed as he shut the door behind her. “No way, I’ll bury her!”

One of the things she’d been surprised about was how cutthroat everyone in the house was when it came to games. They might be older, but they had no shortage of competitive spirit. Whether it was playing Uno, or finishing a word search first, or winning at cornhole, everyone wanted to be on top. It was actually pretty cute.

“Banks, give June some room to breathe,” Meg scolded as she came into the foyer to greet her. “Jeez, the poor woman just arrived. She might want a cup of coffee or something. And she certainly wants to greet everyone else before you drag her out into the yard. Besides, we all agreed we’d wait a couple hours for it to warm up a bit. We don’t want Scott’s fingers falling off from the cold.”

“Won’t be his fingers that fall off. It’ll be his tallyho,” Banks muttered.

June could see Meg trying not to laugh as she said, “That’s not nice, Banks.”

But Banks didn’t seem chastened in the least. “Come on, June, let’s get the meet and greet done so we can get on with the day.”

June let herself be dragged farther into the house. Meg met her eyes and mouthed “Sorry,” but all June could do was smile. She actually loved this. Loved that every day was different. Loved how eager the residents were. They seemed genuinely excited to see her each morning, and that made all the difference. She didn’t mind working hard, didn’t mind not taking a break during the day, because there was always someone who was eager to talk to her, to tell a story about something they’d done or seen in the past, and she felt needed.

If things between her and Cal didn’t work out, she wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t imagine finding a job better than this one. Or one that made her even happier.

Of course, as much as June loved her job, she was always tired by the time three o’clock rolled around. Today was no different. The cornhole tournament had been a huge hit, and she was already planning more outdoor activities as the weather warmed up. It was good to see the residents out getting fresh air, using their muscles, and having a great time. Banks did end up winning, but to June’s surprise, Jara wasn’t that far behind.

She was in the kitchen cleaning dishes from the snacks everyone had just enjoyed when Tim walked in. He was the janitor Meg had hired, and he came in every day shortly before June’s quitting time. She didn’t know a lot about him, but he was always pleasant to her and the residents, which made him okay in her eyes.

“Hey,” he said as he entered the room. “How was the tournament?”

June chuckled. “Good, although I had to break up two almost-fights, and everyone accused everyone else of cheating at least once.”

Tim laughed. “Sounds about right. I brought you something,” he said, holding out a foil-covered plate. “I mean, since we’re both new in town and all, I figured it would be a nice gesture from one newbie to another. I can’t cook worth a darn, but none of my ex-girlfriends ever complained about my superspecial double-chocolate brownies.”

June stared at the plate for a moment. “Um . . . I’m kind of dating someone,” she told him, not wanting him to get any ideas about the two of them.

“Oh, these aren’t a come-on,” he said quickly. “I broke up with a woman right before I moved to town, so I don’t want to get into another relationship. I’m planning on going home to New York by summer anyway. I just figured, you work so hard . . . I thought you might appreciate a treat. All women like chocolate, right?”

“Right,” June said, feeling better about his motives.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she wasn’t going to eat the brownies. She suppressed a small shiver when she thought of the reason why.

“If you don’t want them, I can leave them for the residents, I suppose.”

“No! I do. Want them. Thank you, Tim. That was really nice of you,” June said as she stepped forward.

He smiled at her, and their fingers brushed as he handed over the paper plate. For the first time since she’d met him, June suddenly felt uneasy. She didn’t really have a reason to feel that way, but she’d always had pretty good intuition. She accepted the plate and backed away. “Thanks again.”

“Aren’t you going to try one?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

“Not right now,” she hedged. “We just had snacks. I’ll save them for tonight after dinner.”

“Okay,” Tim said with a shrug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“It’s Sunday. I’m off,” June reminded him.

“Oh, that’s right. Then I’ll see you Tuesday, since Monday’s my day off,” Tim said easily. “Have a good rest of the weekend.”

“You too,” June told him before heading out of the kitchen. She waved goodbye to Jeremy and Brenda, who were watching reruns of Jeopardy! and actually keeping track of who had the most money as the game progressed. They waved back and returned their attention to the television. The other residents weren’t anywhere to be seen, and June figured they were probably taking a nap after the eventful day.

Meg appeared, and she held the plate of brownies for her as June put on her coat.

“These look good,” she said, lifting the edge of the foil.

“Tim brought them for me. Said it was from one newbie to another,” June told her.

“That was nice of him. Enjoy your Sunday. But I don’t need to tell you that, I’m sure. Not when you’re living with Cal Redmon.” She grinned. “That guy is delicious. And so polite and considerate. You couldn’t have found a better man.”

“Thanks,” June said. She wished she was looking forward to going home to a happy and welcoming Cal, but he was sleeping out in the wilderness somewhere, most likely to avoid her. The thought sucked.

When she walked outside, Bob was waiting at the curb. She got into his truck and smiled over at him. “Thanks again for hauling me around. I really need a car, but I can’t afford one right now. Maybe I’ll get a bike,” she mused.

“It’s not a big deal. It’s not like I’m driving thirty minutes out of my way or anything. It takes five minutes, tops, to take you home or to work.”

He wasn’t wrong, but June hated feeling like a burden. They were quiet as they drove toward Cal’s house.

When Bob pulled into the drive, stopping as close to the front porch as he could, he nodded to the plate on her lap. “What’s that?”

“Brownies.”

“You make them at work today?” he asked.

June shook her head. “No. Tim, the janitor, brought them for me.”

Bob looked surprised.

June shook her head, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “He’s not interested in me. Because of my size, people tend to think food is the best gift. Not that I’ve gotten that many presents in my life. It’s just that he’s new here, and I am too, and he wanted to do something to welcome me to town, I guess? I’m not even going to eat them,” she added, not liking the expression on Bob’s face. She didn’t want him to think for a moment that she was in any way cheating on Cal. “I don’t eat food that others have made. I mean . . . not things like this. I eat in restaurants because they’re safe.”

“Safe?” Bob asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah. I don’t know what the environment was like where these brownies were made,” she hedged. “Like, does Tim have a hundred cats, and they walk all over the countertops? Does he have a roach infestation? Can’t tell the difference between salt and sugar? It’s just not always safe to eat food that comes from someone else’s kitchen. But I took them because I wanted to be nice and didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Do you want them?”

Bob recoiled. “After what you just said? No, thank you. Now . . . how about you tell me the real reason why?”

“Why what?” she asked.

“What happened to make you so distrustful of baked goods from other people?”

June stared at him for a moment. She didn’t want to talk about this, but after she’d spilled her guts this morning, she supposed she trusted Bob.

She sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“If it’s made you wary, it’s not stupid,” Bob said. “Now spill.”

“It was a few years ago. Carla made cookies when I was out running errands, and when I got back, she told me she wanted a truce. That she didn’t like how we’d been fighting so much lately. I was actually happy, because at one time, when my dad was alive, we were kind of close. She urged me to eat a couple, and I did because she seemed so proud of herself for having made them.”

“And?” Bob asked when June paused.

“She laced them with a synthetic marijuana. I ended up having horrible hallucinations, and Carla and her friends laughed at how petrified I was. They filmed me cowering in a corner and crying hysterically. They thought it was hilarious, passing the video around to all of their friends, and she even posted it on her social media accounts.

“I literally thought I was dying. It was awful. And I vowed never to eat anything anyone made for me—that I hadn’t seen them cook—ever again.”

June was staring down at the plate in her lap as she told her story, but when she finished, and Bob didn’t comment after a long moment, she glanced over at him. He was clenching the steering wheel so tightly, she could see the whites of his knuckles. A muscle in his jaw was flexing repeatedly, and his lips were pressed together.

He took a deep breath, then turned to her. “Have you told Cal that story?”

“No,” she said with a small shake of her head.

“Don’t,” he bit out. “He’d literally lose his mind and would probably drive back to DC and do something that would make us have to collect bail.”

The thought of Cal being thrown in jail wasn’t something June wanted to think about. “Okay,” she said.

Bob shook his head a little. “Cal’s an idiot for being out in the cold tonight instead of in a warm bed with you,” he said. “Talk to him when he gets back tomorrow. Promise me.”

“I will. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides to spend another night on the trail,” she said, voicing her worry for the first time.

“He won’t. If I have to hike out there and get him myself, he’ll be home,” Bob promised.

June studied the man at her side for a long moment. She wasn’t interested in him romantically, because she was head over heels in love with Cal, but she knew for certain he’d be an amazing man for some woman to have at her side. On the outside, he projected a happy-go-lucky countenance. He went out of his way to be the life of the party and make everyone laugh. But in just the small amount of time she’d spent with him today, after their short conversations, June had a feeling there was a lot more to the man than he showed the rest of the world.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Sleep well. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. You want me to take those brownies with me, so you don’t have to deal with them?” he asked.

“No. I’ll throw them away.”

“Okay. June?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve said it before, and I’m saying it again. Cal needs you. Whatever’s going on in his head . . . it has nothing to do with you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now scoot. I’ve got things to do. Clubs to go to, five-star restaurants to eat at, art galleries to visit . . . you know. Stuff.”

June laughed. As if Newton had any of those things. “Right. Have fun.”

“I meant what I said. If you need anything, call. I’ll be pissed if you don’t.”

“I’ll be fine. But thank you.”

“Later, June.”

“Bye.”

June reached the door and unlocked it, turning and waving at Bob, who hadn’t pulled away from the house, as he was waiting to make sure she got inside all right. She closed the door behind her and sighed. The house felt too big without Cal.

She kicked off her shoes and went into the kitchen. She put the plate of brownies on the counter, then went upstairs to change into a pair of leggings and one of Cal’s sweatshirts. She wasn’t sure Cal’s change of attitude was really about him, not her, as Bob insisted. But she definitely couldn’t continue this way. She needed to find out what was going on with him. Even if what she learned broke her heart, at least she’d know.

And if Bob was right, and Cal was trying to be noble or holding himself back because of his own insecurities, she’d set him straight . . . and maybe they could be happy once again.

Her mind made up and feeling lighter than she thought possible, considering she’d be spending the night alone for the first time in years, June headed back downstairs.

Tim couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He wished he could be there when June tripped out after eating the brownies. Her stepmother had sent him a video of her in a fetal position, crying uncontrollably, while she’d been tripping after eating cookies her stepsister had made for her. Elaine loved the idea of it happening again and had pressured him to make a batch of brownies for June.

So he had . . . for a mere three hundred bucks. Tim would do anything the bitch asked him to do, as long as she was willing to back it up with some green.

Apparently, the conversation about secretly feeding June marijuana had loosened Elaine’s tongue, because she’d gone on and on about the best way to kill her stepdaughter. In a way that would cause her the most pain. She really wanted him to poison her. Had told him about all the painful side effects of certain drugs.

He’d started to ask how she knew so much about it but didn’t have to. The crazy bitch actually told him how she’d used too much succinylcholine when she’d poisoned her husband! Who the fuck shared that kind of juicy info? The miscalculation caused him to die way faster than she’d intended. She’d muttered something about being lucky the symptoms mimicked a heart attack.

As stupid as he thought Elaine was, Tim was still shocked she’d so nonchalantly admit to killing her husband. He insisted that killing June with the same poison wouldn’t work because he couldn’t dose her in any reliable and methodical way. She grunted, but eventually agreed.

Truthfully, that wasn’t really why Tim didn’t want to poison June. He wouldn’t be able to get his hands on a drug like succinylcholine. He’d have to use something like antifreeze, which was easy to get but would take too damn long. He wanted his money, and making June sick week after week would mean he wouldn’t get paid for who knew how long. He much preferred something quick and easy . . . that wouldn’t potentially send her running to the hospital for a bunch of tests.

He still wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but it was going to happen soon. He was sick of this town. Hated his job—though he couldn’t believe his dumb luck when June was hired just days after him. He especially hated old people. They were slow, smelly, and argumentative. And being in Hill’s House surrounded by them was not his idea of a good time. Besides, working in general wasn’t exactly his jam. He preferred to do as little as possible for his money.

He continued to lie to Elaine about what he was doing here in Newton and how the stalking was going. He’d sent her another picture of a threatening note on a door, then a dead squirrel with a knife through its head on a doormat. He’d been reluctant to damage his own hand but eventually decided the money was worth it, so he punched a wall to scrape up his knuckles and sent “proof” to Elaine that he’d sucker punched June from behind while she was walking home one day.

Elaine was gullible as hell, and more importantly, she was prompt with her payments. This was one of the easiest jobs Tim had ever done. He was actually a little disappointed that his gravy train would be ending soon. But he was over living in the sticks, so it was almost time to do what he’d been sent to do—take out Juniper Rose and get his ten thousand dollars.

“It’s not personal,” he muttered as he rested his head against the back of the couch. He’d left work early tonight, not feeling it. He’d overheard June telling one of the old broads who lived at Hill’s House that the prince was spending the night on the AT. It would be a perfect opportunity to head to the house and scare the shit out of her . . . but honestly, he was feeling too lazy. And he didn’t want to give her any reason to start being more careful.

In his opinion, Elaine’s whole plan was flawed from the get-go. If he really was a stalker, he had a feeling the prince and his military friends would rally after just one note. Close ranks around June so he’d never have a chance to get anywhere near her. It would actually make the guy spend more time with June instead of running back to the other daughter.

Elaine’s bullshit would eventually backfire in a big way, and she’d probably try to frame Tim.

Which wasn’t happening.

Nope. Tim wouldn’t do a damn thing to give June or the prince any reason to be wary. He’d strike hard and fast and out of the blue. She’d have no idea what was coming for her, which was better all the way around. What happened after she was dead wasn’t his concern. As long as he got his money, Tim would be happy.

Maybe the prince would run back to DC, as Elaine hoped . . . but he doubted it. Her suggestion that he leave one last note after killing June, implying Carla was next, wouldn’t wash. The man would see through Elaine’s plan easily. But again, either way, Tim would be gone and a hundred C-notes richer.